Evening Star Newspaper, November 10, 1929, Page 110

THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, NOVEMBER 10, 1929, Samuel E. Wright Tells Another Story of a Strange Job Which Fell to a Steeplejack. A Battle Amid Flame and Water. “Rattlesnake Trestle’’ and the Serpents of Sonora. EDITOR’S NOTE: Mr. Wright has previously told in The Star Magazine of the desperate chances taken by steeplejacks in scaling skyscraping steeples. But the hair-breadth adventures of the men in this hazardous profes- sion do not all take place high in the air. In this article he pictures another—and little known—angle of the jobs that “human flies” are called upon to do. BY SAMUEL E. WRIGHT. LEJACK'S business often mm into queer places. My brother and I have been half way around the world, climbing spires and chimneys, painting the walls of factor; bui'dings, repairing bridges and trestles, doing every sort of job that an ordinary painter or carpsnier or mason might think too risky. * We n2ver refused a contract, no matter how difficult it seemed. We have handled some tough assignments, but I don’t think we ever tackled a meaner proposition than a wooden bridge down in Sonora, Mexico, which we called “rattlesnake trestle.” Severa: years ago we accepted a contract to repair and paint this bridge, which was 800 feet long and spanned the Yaqui River, the largest river in Sonora. It was a “time and material” contract. We hadn’t the slightest idea what we were up against, so we just fol- lowed instructions and shipped our supplies as requested. After a tiresome train journey from Chicago, we arrived at Hermosillo, the capital of Sonora, where we were met by a guide with an ox cart train. He was detailed to haul our tools and supplies over the mountains ind desert about sixty miles to the Yaqui. Next day we began the slowest trip I ever took over the worst country I ever saw. The roads were terrible—sometimes invisible—and the ox carts were so heavily loaded that the drivers, or ox punchers, refused to make any effort to hurry. ’ NIGHTPALL of the third day the Yaqui came into view, 2 miles away. Here the trail became narrower until it was no more than a path through the mesquite. The guide went first, then came my brother and I, and then the ox teams and men. Suddenly I heard a queer rattling sound. 1 looked down and saw a big rattlesnake almost under my feet. Maybe I didn’t jump! Priends, I don't know how many of you have met a rattlesnake face to face, but I for oge would rather meet a wildcat. I can safely say I would rather climb the highest smokestack five times than meet one rattler. The canyon we were in was infested with snakes. I distinguished rattlers and cop- perheads and two or three other kinds, which the guide called by some Mexican name. That was the most uncomfortable two miles I ever walked. There is something about the noise a rattler makes that gives me the creeps, and I heard it plenty that day. I walked as if I were treading on eggs, and my one idea was to get out of that snake nest as soon as possible, but that confounded guide seemed to pick out the very places where the snakes were the thickest. Snakes didn't worry him at all. Every shiny object made me jump. I wished I had cyes in the back of my head so I could see on all sides at once. . Charlie, my brother, didn’t enjoy it any more than I did. Finally I whispered to him: “Let’s keep right behind the guide and let him face the snakes. He likes 'em.” Much to my surprise, not one of us was bitten. After what seemed hours, we came to the west bank of the Yaqui without mishap and forded a shallow riffle. There was the mining camp and the trestle we had come so far to repair. We breathed a sigh of relief. My men were disgusted by this time and ready to quit, but I had them fast. Not one of them would have dared walk back alone through that valley of rattlesnakes, even if Chicago was at the other end of it. We all had a good night’s rest in a long, one-story dobie house, which served as the office of the mining company. Next morning we felt better. " The trestle was of peculiar construction, built of heavy wood planks and beams and supported by piles and braced by wood trusses. From the mine jt ran level across the Yaqui, the highest point being about sixty fedt directly over th: center of the stream. On the opposite side it sloped downward, winding down to a loading dock on the west bank of the river. The runway carried two narrow gauge tracks equipped with endless chains, driven by motors. Ore cars, heavily laden, were constantly mov- ing from the mine to the dock and empty cars were returning to the mine. All in all, this trestle was a very busy place, with cars pass- ing continuously. We sized it up and decided painting it was no play-boy job. HOWEVER, nothing happened to mar our progress until we had reached a point about half way across. Here the weight of two men standing on a 24-foot scaffold pulled the scaffold loose at one end. This ripped up one of the stringer beams and caused the endless chain to snap. A car loaded with ore jumped the track and crashed nose downward until it struck between two spacers, balanced like a teeter-tauter. Heavy chunks of ore rained down upon the heads of the men, who were scrambling to right themselves on the upturned scaffold. This shower of rocks made them. lose their hold and fall about twenty-five feet to the ground. Luckily they were uninjured except {;r a few bruises where the ore had struck em. This accident set us back two days, but we sawed wood, and before long we were on the last stretch, a strip about 100 feet long, level, and abcut 20 feet above the ground. Starting on this section, two riveters, as usual took the lead to tighten the loose bolts and replace the rusted ones. Behind them were two gangs of painters. Suddenly one of the riveters, who was sitting in a bo'sun’s chair, gave a loud yell and jumped from his chair to the ground. I ran to pick him up, but before I had time to ask him what had happened, the other riveter let out a yell and he, too, leaped to the grounc. The riveters had barely recovered their equi- librium, and I was still wondering what on earth was the matter, when one of the painters drcpped down, then another and another until the trestle was bare. They were all so ekcited it was some time before I got an explanation out of them. Finally they told between every joint connection was colled a huge snake, and when they put their rivet torches or paint brushes between the con- nections, a squirming, wicked head would dart out, working its forked tongue in and out like lightning. Because of their excitement, I was unable to find out what kind of snakes they were. After I thought they had regained their nerves, 1 ordered them to go back to work, but they Teplied in a body: “Go and do it yourself!” . I was up against it. I was in a hurry to complete the job, so I climbed up the trestle to investigate. When I reached the first scaf- fold I took a long pole and cautiously poked it into one of the connections. Whew! My hair fairly stood on end! A big rattler darted out of the hole. I'll never forget how he looked and how he shook his rattles. The poke of the pole had made him mad and no mistake. It did not take me long to get down from there. Back on the ground, I began to study the situation. For a while I was up a tree as to what to do. Then a thought came to me: Why not burn them out? Telling one of the men to cut a pole 20 feet long, which he did, I had the hose of the rivet torch securely tied to the end of the pole. The torch was lit, and we pushed the flame in between each joint. There was some squirm- ing and rattling and huge snakes, some of them 6 feet long, dropped to the ground, partly burned. If they tried to wriggle away, the torch finished them. We kept this up two or three days, until there wasn’t a snake left on the bridge. A week later we had the job completed and were back in Chicago, not a bit sorry or re- gretful. I don’t believe any of that crew will ever forget “rattlesnake trestle.” How the snakes got there was always a mystery. One of the mine workers thought they were dumped on the dock with the ore and crawled up the stringer beams until they found a place to nest in. ON one other occasion we used rivet torches to good advantage. This time we saved a man’s life. We were repairing & construction bridge in the Everglades of Florida—a ram- shackle old bridge that spanned several hundred feet of marsh and water. : At that time the State was trying to drain the Everglades and six canals were being dug In order to carry on the work, it was necessary to put the bridge in serviceable condition. The section in which this bridge was located was a great, shallow lake, filled with half sub- merged islands. The water was clear and pure, and varied from 1 to 12 feet in depth. The bottom was limestone, covered with loam, and I never saw such luxuriant vegetation. All about us were wild lemon, wild orange, cucum- ber, pawpaw, wild rubber trees and all kinds of wild flowers, with orchids predominating. In this jungle were thousands of wild an- imals. Otter, deer, panthers and aligators were plentiful. There, for the first time, I saw an ibis, which is a rare bird of the stork variety, with a long, curved beak. Its favorite pastime is standing on one leg in the water and catch- ing bugs and fish, . “My hair fairly stood on end! A big rattler darted out of the hole.” The most annoying thing I found in the Everglades was what the natives called saw- grass, a kind of sedge with saw-toothed leaves. It grew everywhere on the muck-covered bot- tom, raising its leaves about 3 feet above the surface of the water and making the shallow parts of the lake practically impassable. The bridge was a temporary affair built of oak planks and beams supported on piles. I have seen a good many hridges, but this was the worst of the lot. Some of the piles had sunk so that sectrens of planking sagged until they were almost hoop-shaped. The first thing we did after we arrived on the job was to jack up the sunken portions of the bridge. We did this by splicing short sections on top of the piles. It was a tough job, because, although the water was low, the water and saw-grass offered no footing, and the men had to work with the aid of short drop ropes and bo’sun’s chairs, just as they did on the rattlesnake bridge in Sonora. As a matter of fact, I had even more trouble with the men in the Everglades than I had had on the Mexico job. Once I thought they would all quit and return to Chicago, but I brought them around with a promise of a bonus to be paid out of the profits—if there were any. I really didn’t blame them for being discon- tented in a place like that. After a hard day's work there was nothing to do but sit around a camp fire and fight bugs and mosquitoes. We had been at work three or four days when one of the men, jacking up timbers, hap~ pened to look down and saw what he took for a huge fish swimming and circling immediately below him. He called the attention of the others, and they all stopped work to look at it. When my brother and I came out to see what was up, we found the men arguing about it, as they always did when anything unusual nappened. Some of them thought it was an ' alligator; others said it was a crocodile. What- ever it was. it was large enough to swallow a man whole, if he was unlucky enough to fall into the lake. Later in the day one of the workmen from the canal told us the animal was a crocodile, and an extra large one—only he called it a “crock.” The men didn't feel any too good when they learned there were crocodiles about. I spent most of the day watching the beast. It finally crawled out on a little sandy beach close by and pretended to be asleep, but every now and then it would open its enormous mouth and snap its jaws together like a steel trap. WHEN its mouth was open, it was no pleasant sight. I noticed its under jaw worked like a hinge, and with two long rows of sharp teeth it could have bitten a man in half as easily as You would take a bite out of an apple. All I heard from the men around our camp fire that night was crocodiles, and you can be sure I felt a hundred per cent better when we went on the job next morning and Mr, Crocodile had dis- appeared. For two days we didn’t see a thing of him, and then on the third day he suddenly ap- peared again, bringing another one, equally large. Then I began to worry. I hated to think what might happen if a rope broke and dropped a man into the water. Next day two more came. Apparently the first one had passed the word around to all his friends. More and more arrived, until there was a small school of the monsters circling and circling around directly beneath where the men were working. I cautioned the men to use the utmost care transferring drops and chairs, and at the same time I began to plan and study what to do if an accident happened. There were now 15 of the man-eaters swimming about, and more came each day. Finally I had an idea. Torches had helped us out of one bad situation, why not use them again? I called the men together and ordered every man to snub a life line and have it handy in case of a fall. Then I picked out two men, who had experience in the use of torches, and gave them special orders what to do in case a man fell into the water. At a moment’s warning one man was to open the valves and ignite the acetylene flame while the other slid down a specially knotted rope with the hose in his hand. He was to get as close to the crocodiles as possible and cut and slash with the fire until the man in the water was rescued. This plan decided, I felt better. From day to day as the work progressed the rescue men, life lines, hose, torches and equipe ment moved along with it. And 10 feet below us the hungry crocodiles moved along, too. When nothing happened the men began to com- plain again, because all this extra work was - & nuisance, but I insisted that the orders be strictly obeyed. I knew the temperament of these men. They were getting accustomed to seeing the crocodiles about, and if I had relaxed the least bit they would have forgotten my precautions. I heard a good deal of grumbling, but as long as the danger was there I refused to. let them become careless. I knew the crocks would remain while they could still smell the men above them. I didn’t dare leave the job for one second. Day after day I sat on that bridge watching the men and gazing at those big monsters in the water. I had a premonition something was going to happen, although every one else was cheerful and happy in the thought that we would be back among the bright lights of Chicago in four or five days. On the last day of the job one of the painters, moving his drop line and chair, forgot to snub and lock his spacer clamp. When he seated himself in the chair the clamp sprung open and with a loud splash, clamp, drop line, chair and painter tumbled into the lake. The sudden splatter startled the crocodiles, and they scattered in all directions, but in a few moments, before Fred James, the painter, could extricate himself from his rigging, they turned and came swiftly swimming back. Mean~ while the man with the torch had slid down the rope and when the beasts returned he cut out at them with live flame. Probably nothing else short of an elephant gun would have stopped them, because their hides are like armor plate. For a few minutes it looked as if even fire would not stop then. It was a great fight while it lasted. One huge monster was almost cut in two, and the water was stained with red before the remainder of the crew scuttled away. Soon after our return from Florida I received a letter from a large granary asking if we could repair and paint some of their grain chambers, which were empty and badly in need of atten- tion. Acs we had never done any work of this sort before, I decided to look the ground over carefully before making an estimate. The chambers were built of steel, 80 feet high and 20 feet in diameter. Altogether there were 60 of these huge cylinders, in rows of 10 each. They looked like a forest of steel smokestacks. WHEN I had examined them from the outside I climbed to the roof of one of the cham- bers and peered into it through a trap door. It was impossible to see the interior, however, as no lights had been rigged and the inside was in inky darkness. Without further inspection, it would be neces- sary to bid blind. This put me in a predica- ment. I did not want to lose the job or the money, either, so I asked an official of ths company to give me two days to figure on it. He was almost suspiciously agreeable. “Don’t forget, you'll get the job if your figures are right,” he said. I went back to my office and explained the case to my brother. I told him the chambers were nothing more than smokestacks with a roof over them, and I thought we ought to be able to do them for smokestack prices. “It ought to be a cinch,” he said. “Let’s put in a bid of $2,500 a chamber.” I agreed and wrote out the estimate. Two days later I delivered it in person at the granary. In five minutes the bid was accepted. I had never had a big contract accepted with such lightning rapidity, and it seemed queer to me. Later I discovered they had been trying